Flies
by arctique48
Summary: We gamble to be born again, you know I never wanted to. Drabblish.


**Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc belongs to JKR.**

**AN:** Dude, this is weird. I don't even remember writing it. I imagine it was somehow inspired by the lyrics quoted but who knows. Another old revamped story.

**-**

"_Any means in your horizon  
Heaven in a tourniquet  
The afterlife to keep your eyes on  
bitter pill you take you take today."_

**-**

You couldn't quite place it. In the mirror your skin looked too white and when you asked your friend he just looked sad.

You sat in silence as they whispered and poked. Question after question over breakfast papers. Quidditch soon, you nod. Will we win? You hope so.

Then there was class. Transfiguration that day. Normal yet somehow off. Professor by the board, desks neat in rows. Wands out, books open. Water to wine. You looked to the left. Why was Neville missing? You frowned and turned to ask. (_Tears to blood_.) She gasped and dropped the goblet. (_Massacre was upon you. Visions of classroom death with the ringing screams of girls giggling.) (Blood to tears.) _ She muttered sorry and you blinked. Wine to water. The pace was slow but it took no time at all for the bell sound, ringing in your ears like an air-raid siren. (_Armageddon it screamed to you.). _

Skipping and twisting you fell down and down to the dungeons. Snape was mean and the lesson was hard. Normal. Yet not so. (_The flickering candles cast ghosts of your dreams upon your soul.) _You twisted and made not a sound, and he mocked you. You must have missed another question because now your house throw irritated glances.

Lunch.

They take you outside. Your friends. One tall, the other shorter. One smiling with darkened eyes, the other looking lost. They ask you where you want to go and you walk to the lake. They want to sit beneath the tree, but its leaves stir and make to strangle so you save them from its hungry clutches. (_You used to always like saving people. Some used to say you were good at it.)_ They share a look, confusion perhaps? Uncertainty? Dread? But they follow you all the same as you lie down on the grass.

Eyes to the skies, you think. And it rhymes.

Around you nature buzzes and hums and creaks and groans and shrieks and screams until you have to check your hands again for blood. You never liked the blood on your hands. It smelt like the dungeons and Slytherins were never pleasant.

_(Sun dark in the noonday sky.) _

_(Butterflies rising and falling on leaden wings.) _

_(You watch the clouds battle and die only to be reborn as phoenixes from ash.)_

_(You watch the trees bleed tears of green and the birds feed from their wounds.)_

The battle cry of fallen angels wakes you from your trance and obediently you follow. They tell you it is time to eat and you agree.

Sitting at the table. Silent as they whisper and poke. The other people bother you sometimes. Not like _that _time, but still a bit. She laughs at you and you glare, silly mouse hides behind her friends and the whispering stops. You check your hands in the sudden silence but they are white as ever.

Up, up, up. Your personal stairway to heaven and the pink adorned gate welcomes you with pleasant smiles. There is chattering and laughter and tortured shrieks of tickled children. The room is paved with gold but from its walls you watch in horror as blood tumbles into pools of velvet about the windows. Flies, flesh-feasting insects robed in black, flit from bloodied corpse to bloodied corpse. In the twisted light of the dying sun the bodies are almost like cushioned chairs and the thought brings bile to your throat. You stumble back with tears slowly forcing needles through your lids. You hold your hands to your face, in the firelight's embers they glow dark and again you hear the screams.

-

You stand once again on the field. The great battlefield on which so many were slain. Your wand lies broken at your feet and in the wake of soul consuming pain you tremble. They are dead.

"_Imperio"_ he had whispered and you felt peace in your hour of need. You tried to fight it, but his will was strong and your mind numbed with loss. He told you to kill so you killed. He told you to bow and you bowed. He told you to bleed, and on your knees you did so.

You raised your hands and they were red. The sickly warmth of _their_ departed life soaked to your frozen core and you felt its touch. Around you broken children bled dark into the grass. Within you something was crumbling, and when you opened your mouth it scratched its way out in the very scream that shatters the air of your common room once again.

"_Obliviate"_ They had whispered.

But it hadn't been enough.

-

"_We gamble to be born again  
You know I never wanted to"_

**- Allergic (to thoughts of mother earth) -Placebo**

**-**

**AN:** Harry.

_**If you've read it please review it.**_


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